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DAY DREAMS 


















DAY DREAMS 


RUDOLPH VALENTINO 

a 



(TO M.) 

The serenade of a thousand years ago 

The song of a hushed Up 

Lives forever in the glass of today 

Wherein we see the reflection of it 

If we but brush away 

The cobwebs of a doubting faith. 


Published by 

MACFADDEN PUBLICATIONS, Inc. 
New York 


1923 


TS&&+ 3 
.{\ ZL^Jjs 
M Z3 

Copyright, 1923 

BY 

RUDOLPH VALENTINO 


Printed 
in U. S. A. 


© Cl A 7 5 9 9 5 2 



20 1923 


l 





To J. C. N. G. 


MY FRIENDS HERE AND THERE 





INTRODUCTION 


I can not tell a rondelay 
In words of yesterday 
I can not tell a couplet 

For words come as they may. 
I’ll do my best—I’ll try a bit 
Of ultra-modern rhyme 
And cast aside the shackles 
Binding “Once upon a time.” 








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PREFACE 


O you, my gentle reader, I wish to say a foreword 



* of warning before you peruse the contents of this book. 
I am not a poet nor a scholar, therefore you shall find neither 
poems nor prose. Just dreams —Day Dreams —a bit of 
romance, a bit of sentimentalism, a bit of philosophy, not 
studied, but acquired by constant observation of that great¬ 
est of masters! . . . Nature! 

While lying idle, not through choice, but because forcibly 
kept from my preferred and actual field of activity, I took 
to dreams to forget the tediousness of worldly strife and the 
boredom of jurisprudence’s pedantic etiquette. 

Happy indeed I shall be if my Day Dreams will bring 
you as much enjoyment in the reading as they brought to 
me in the writing. 



Ner» York—May 29th , 1923 . 











CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The Gift Book.1 

Nature . 3 

The Love Child.5 

Heart Flower.9 

You.11 

Day Dreams.15 

Suspicion.17 

The Sage . 19 

Morphia.21 

Domino.23 

The Sphinx.25 

Stradivarius.27 

Extravaganza.29 

Mirage.31 

Glorification.33 

Remembrance.35 

Three Generations of Kisses.37 

A Baby’s Skin.39 

Gratitude.41 

Shadows.43 

Accusation.45 

Even Song.47 

Gypsies. 49 

The Carrier.53 

The School of Life.55 

The Wanton.57 

Slavery.59 

Within a Wall.61 

The Chalice.63 

Solicitude.<- 65 

[ xiii ] 














DAY DREAMS 


THE GIFT BOOK 
(To J. R.) 

A book is a kindly gracious thing. 

Each has a particular gift to bring. 

It may be the wealth 
Of a wonderful life, 

Or the thrilling adventure 
Of Jungle strife. 

Perhaps it’s a present 
Of orient gold. 

Tales of Aladdin 
Enchantingly told. 

Maybe a view 
Of olden days. 

Knighthood—Romance, 

Flowery ways. 

And again a journey 
To lands afar. 

Where strange things happen. 
And wonders are. 

All of them—Gift books 
But plainly I see. 

Not one of them holds 
The gift for me. 

I want a book 

That will lazily roam 
Down the dear Pathway 
To Folks back home. 


[1] 









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DAY DREAMS 


NATURE 

Nature is the open book 

Wherein the truths of the world are found 

Nature is an endless story 

Of never changing glory 

When you study nature your teacher is God 

So always let your reference be 

This Greatest of Masters. 


[3] 






DAY DREAMS 


THE LOVE CHILD 
(To B.) 

Don Juan roamed the summer sky 

A shady cloud of gray 

But this dull attire 

Hid a heart of fire 

In quest of romance stray. 

Vision 

A lovely golden sunbeam 
Shining from above 
Came radiant by 
And caught the eye 
Of this vagabond of love. 

Delusion 

In wild tempestuous wooing 
He kissed her heart away 
All in a jest 
It was the quest 

Of the cloud on a summer’s day. 
Conclusion 

Through tears the sunbeam glimmered 
Then happily she smiled 
The tempest passed 
Alone at last 

With a little rainbow child. 


[ 5 ] 




N , 


DAY DREAMS 


Dawn runs in a crimson streak 
Across a leaden sky— 

Just like a pulsing vein of life 
An artery of love not strife 
And it livens the heavens high. 

So in our sky today it seems. 
No sign of life we see. 

Do we not know. 

Night’s bound to go. 

Dawn follows instantly. 


If it were not for the showers, where 
would the rainbows be? 


[ 7 ] 




DAY DREAMS 


HEART FLOWER 

O lovely rose 

Within whose chalice lies 
The heart of my true love. 

Did not the gods in benediction stoop 
To bless thee from above? 

And place within thy roseate lips 
The rubies counterpart. 

I found it there 
A jewel rare 
The flower of thy heart. 


[ 9 ] 





























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DAY DREAMS 


YOU 

Your Eyes 

Your Eyes, 

Mystic pools 

Of beauteous light. 
Golden brown 
In color 
Deep, 

Yet, amber clear. 
Unshadowed 
By a frown, 
Fathomless, 

Wherein 
My senses 
Drown. 

Your Eyes. 

Your Lips 

Your Lips, 

Twin silken petals 
Of a dewy rose. 

Altar 

Of the heart 
Where love 

Kindling desire 

Worships unafraid. 
Crucible 

Of 

Passion. 

The rose in masquerade. 
Your Lips. 

[11 ] 















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DAY DREAMS 


Your Kiss 

Your Kiss, 

A flame 

Of Passion’s fire 
The sensitive Seal 
Of Love 
In the desire. 

The fragrance 
Of your Caress; 

Alas, 

At times 
I find 

Exquisite bitterness 
In 

Your Kiss. 


[ 13 ] 


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DAY DREAMS 


DAY DREAMS 
(To The Friend) 

Yesterda p—in contemplation 

We dreamed of love to be. 

And in the dreaming. 

Wove a tapestry of Love. 

Today —We dream our dream awake; 
Realization, 

Coloring our Romance 
With all the glory 
Of a flaming Rose. 

TomorroTv —What awakening lies before us: 
Our tapestry 

In shreds perchance. 

Or mellowed—glorified 
By love’s reflection? 

I wonder— 


[ 15 ] 











DAY DREAMS 


SUSPICION 

There crossed the path 

Of my dream of you 
A gossamer web of gray. 

So soft its sheen. 

Almost unseen. 

But it stopped me 
On my way. 

Like a cold, gray granite battlement 
It walled me all about. 

For a cruel steel, 

Was in the feel 
Of the silken web of doubt. 


[171 











DAY DREAMS 


THE SAGE 
(To M.) 

O Gladness shining bravely 

From out the eyes of youth, 

Be strong in your belief of good. 
Of valor and of truth. 

For soon enough. 

Too soon enough— 

The gladdest light meets doubt. 
Then flickers, flutters, just a bit. 
But, doesn’t quite go out. 

O Sadness peering divinely 

From out the eyes of age, 

Be strong in your belief of good. 

To youth—still be the sage. 
For soon enough. 

Too soon enough, 

The saddest light in doubt. 

Flickers, flutters, flickers. 

And finally goes out. 


[ 19] 









DAY DREAMS 


MORPHIA 

I am The Ingrate Morphia, 

You hold the brimming cup of your Life 
To me, athirst am I, 

And drink my fill 
Of strength, until 
The cup is drained dry. 

Then, satisfied, I care no more. 

The cup, I cast away. 

Crunch ’neath my heel. 

Its doom I seal. 

As I walk on my way. 


r 21 ] 




DAY DREAMS 


DOMINO 


Passion’s cloak, 

An ashy thing to wear, 

Covering the shroud of love 
That once was fair. 

What gruesome imagery 
Does this convey to me. 

Grim death—itself no ghastlier a thing than this 
Could ever be. 


[23] 







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DAY DREAMS 


THE SPHINX 
(To B. H.) 

O Sphinx—a monument to man! 

Built by his hands of clay. 

You symbolize the power of might 
Used in an earthy way. 

Yesteryear, you stood for man’s symbolic strength 
sublime, 

Today, you all but buried are 
Beneath the sands of time. 

O Wondrous mountain—living Sphinx! 

Built by the hand of God, 

You symbolize the power of Love 
Used with the lowly sod. 

Yesteryear, a symbol of divinity sublime. 

Today, you lift your rugged head 
Untouched by hands of time. 

O Sphinx—a monument to man! 

Built by his hand of clay. 

You symbolize the power of might 
Used in an earthy way. 

Yesterday, you in grandeur stood alone. 

Today, you’re mingling with the sand 
A rotting mass of stone. 

O Wondrous mountain—living Sphinx! 

Built by the hand of God, 

You symbolize the power of Love 
Used with the lowly sod, 

E’er yesterday, you stood a monument of Love, 
Today unchanged, your glorious face. 

In worship turned above. 

[ 25 ] 


DAY DREAMS 


STRADIVARIUS 

(To Jascha Heifetz) 

If power were only given me. 

To paint the tone picture that arises from the soul 
Of that sanctuary of sound—your violin, 

Where would I find pigment worthy of such a use. 
Save in the fleeting splendour of some sky. 

Where a brush—save in a snowy feather 
From the shining wing of an archangel. 

Where the canvas—save across the dream memory 
of one who heard 
And was blessed by the hearing. 


[ 27 ] 





DAY DREAMS 


EXTRAVAGANZA 

Extravaganza! The very word is vulgar. Still vulgarity 
is necessary to development, for even a weed growing in a 
swamp can sometimes be cultivated into a hot house plant. 
Take an orchid not under its own surroundings, but dress it 
by putting it in a proper receptacle, and what a difference! 
But, outside of beauty what have you? If we could only 
combine the beauty of an orchid with the soul of a weed we 
would get an improvement in the orchid, for real weeds are 
grateful enough to spring up between cobblestones, even to 
be trampled upon. 

Rather be a blade of grass that knows the heart beats of 
Mother Earth, than the potted plant which is pampered and 
only restored to a semblance of life. 


[29] 




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DAY DREAMS 


MIRAGE 

Happiness—you wait for us 
Just beyond. 

Just beyond. 

We know not where. 

Nor how we shall find you. 
We only know you are 
Waiting, waiting. 

Just beyond. 


[31 ] 





DAY DREAMS 


GLORIFICATION 
(To W. W.) 

The arms of the earth broke through the sod 
And clenched his fist in derision, 

For clay knows not the might of God, 

It has but earthy vision. 

The finger of God wrote in the sky 
A sign of mighty fire: 

“Reach up to me for I am Life’* 

But earth could reach no higher. 

With strength of muscle, with might and main. 
Earth struggled and then defied. 

But God stretched forth His hand of Love 
And Earth was glorified. 


[33] 








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DAY DREAMS 


REMEMBRANCE 
(To M. O.) 

An infant memory, 

A tiny fragile thing. 

Called into being 

By the brush of a colored wing 
Across the canvas 

Of my tired mind. 

It grows, 

A lovely picture of the past 
I find. 

You! Grown to fullest stature 
Of the perfect soul, 

The tiny sheltered memory 
Has reached at last 

Its goal. 


[35] 





DAY DREAM 


THREE GENERATIONS OF KISSES 
(To M. K.) 

A Mother’s kisses 
Are blessed with love 
Straight from the heart 
Of Heaven above. 

Love’s Benediction, 

Her dear caress. 

The sum of all our happiness. 

Till we kiss the lips 
Of the mate of our soul 
We never know Love 
Has reached its goal. 

Caress divine, 

You reign until 

A baby’s kiss seems sweeter still. 

That beloved blossom 
A baby’s face 
Seems to be 
Love’s resting place. 

And a million kisses 
Tenderly 

Linger there in ecstacy. 

Were I told to select 
Just one kiss a day; 

Oh! What a puzzle 
I would say. 

Still a baby’s kiss 
I’d choose, you see. 

For in that wise choice 
I’d gain ALL Three. 

[37] 












DAY DREAMS 


A BABY’S SKIN 

Texture of a butterfly’s wing. 

Colored like a dawned rose, 

Whose perfume is the breath of God. 
Such is the web wherein is held 
The treasure of the treasure chest 
The priceless gift—the Child of Love. 


[39 1 



DAY DREAMS 


GRATITUDE 
(To A. T.) 

The oleander blooms for me. 

In dawning splendrous beauty, 

I planted it so tenderly, 

And love has done its duty. 

All in a garden of the earth. 

All in a plot of ground. 

Wherein I found no bit of worth. 

The seed I planted in the ground. 

O Tiny seed almost unworthy 
To be cherished for thy looks. 

But deep within the heart of you 
Was wisdom never found in books. 

You are the spirit of the good. 

The joy, the beauty of all things, 

You are the melody of life—the song 
That Mother Nature sings. 

And so to that sweet lullaby 
You, in your perfumed cradle, rest 
Safe in the arms of Mother Earth, 

Held closely to her loving breast. 

Until one happy wondrous day 
When love so tenderly drew nigh. 

Lifted your tiny hand of green 
And turned your face toward the sky. 

The oleander blooms for me, 

In dawning splendrous beauty, 

I planted it so tenderly 
And love has done its duty. 

[41 ] 



DAY DREAMS 


SHADOWS 

Shadows—gray symbol of a broken faith. 

We cling to hope—in hope we find 
The symbol of a broken heart. 

Shadows—gray bleak gossamer web 
Of what once was woven ’round my heart. 

We slink within thy domain—the land of shadows. 

For still we hope. 

But knowing always, that a broken faith can never be 
restored 

To more than it was—a Shadow. 


[43] 

































DAY DREAMS 


ACCUSATION 

Out of a shadowed corner 
Comes a phantom of the past. 
To confuse me 
And accuse me 
For a vain iconoclast. 

To chide me 
And deride me 
In a seething scornful blast. 
To cheat me 
And defeat me. 
Conscience, crucifies at last. 


[45] 




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DAY DREAMS 


EVEN SONG 

I sing a song to the sapphire sky 
That curtains a sleeping earth. 

I sing a song to the stars on high 
That mark a jewel’s worth. 

My feeble voice, so weak it sounds, 
A puny earthy cry. 

Yet when its echo comes to me. 
Angelic voice in harmony, 

I know it is not I. 

It was belief that gave it wing. 
That weakling voice of mine. 

And carried it where angels sing 
God’s Melody Divine. 







DAY DREAMS 


GYPSIES 

(To R. B.) 

Little gypsies of the city. 

Little sparrows—more’s the pity, 
Homeless, heedless of the weather. 
Happy, banding all together. 

Never giving thought to trouble. 
Never seeing evil double. 

Would that we who proudly mention 
Every honorable intention 
To the world with trumpet blaring. 
Could, like sparrows, take uncaring 
All the little earthly struggles. 

Cast them gypsy-like aside 
And fly happily, and gladly 
All about earth’s countryside. 


Why do the birds chant the psalm of glory? 

Only because they alone are free throated and un¬ 
afraid. Do they realize the danger in the sling-shot of 
civilization? No—they are only conscious of the Joy 
within. 


[49] 


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DAY DREAMS 


Why sing of Joy— 

If Joy is to be unheard. 
Why sing of Faith, 

If Faith is to be barred. 
For all that is good 
Is forever alive. 

And all that is bad 

Is dead before it be born. 


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DAY DREAMS 


THE CARRIER 
(To J. K.) 

A poor little messenger clad in gray. 

Sent as a go-between—they say. 

Took a betrayal under its wing 

And guarded and cherished the slimy thing. 

We speak of Glory, and Trust, and Men, 
But that is all forgotten when 
We send this softly feathered bird 
With messages best left unheard. 

Oh! What a mockery ’cross the sky 
The dove is sent to act as spy. 


[53] 




DAY DREAMS 


THE SCHOOL OF LIFE 

(ToM) 

Lives are classes—we are pupils with excellent teachers. 
Experience should tutor us, but we so often shirk school. 
School can be made happy and we delight in making a higher 
grade—but through not heeding Experience’s teaching we 
often are left back in the old class, and sometimes, sad to relate* 
are put several grades lower. 

But, happily, there is always the opportunity of skipping 
many grades upward. It’s a poor rule that doesn’t work both 
ways. 

The Mind is the Grade we work in. We can have majes¬ 
tic thoughts, living in a hermit’s hut, or we can think as a 
swine in a palace on a throne of gold—let us choose our 
station—kingly children, or swineherds. Eternity is the 
Empire. 


[ 55 ] 




DAY DREAMS 


THE WANTON 

To love, save that which mockery was. 
No heart, save that of stone. 

A multitude forever hers, 

Alas—not one—alone! 

Cradled in the arms of many, 

Not where to lay her weary head. 
Fortune smiled—held out her hand 
And struck the wanton dead. 


[ 57 ] 







DAY DREAMS 


SLAVERY 
(To E. A. P.) 

Love 

I am a slave, 

Yet free as birds above. 

Sold into bondage 
By the tender kiss of love. 

Lust 

I am a slave 

In the rat trap of disgust. 

Sold into bondage 
By the lurid kiss of lust. 

Hate 

I am a slave 

Prisoned by the walls of fate. 

Sold into bondage 
By the cruel kiss of hate. 

Crime 

I am a slave 
Behind the bars of time. 

Sold into bondage 
By the leprous kiss of crime. 

Death 

I am a slave 
No longer in my breath. 

Given sight of freedom 
Through the graciousness of death. 

Still am I a slave 
In the hand of destiny. 

Thought alone enslaved me 
And thought alone can free. 

[59] 


DAY DREAMS 


WITHIN A WALL 

Once in a time when skies were gray 
I chanced to walk in a cloistered way, 

I saw the ones who closed the door 
On all the world had spread before. 

Their eyes—that were closed to the joy of good. 
They thought the God’s law they understood. 
O Pity, Pity, for such as they 
Who only look on skies of gray. 

From cloistered windows sad of eye. 

When all about is glorious sky. 

It was but the tiny patch of gray. 

The shadowed thing that happened to play 
Behind the back of the glorious earth. 

Alas, they thought it was all the worth 
Of the whole wide world, the glorious world. 
But the folded wings were not unfurled 
And closed to use they lost the call. 

And so they lost to them their all. 


[61 ] 




DAY DREAMS 


THE CHALICE 
(To E. H.) 

The chalice of a lily cup 
Is indeed the sacrament 
That Mother Nature uses 
When she communes with God. 








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DAY DREAMS 


SOLICITUDE 

On the sands of a happy shore, 
Walked two lovers, hand in hand. 
Leaving all that’s gone before. 

They mark each footstep in the sand. 
Knowing well that every foot print 
Will be trod by their own blood, 
Therefore, let each couple ponder 
O’er their footsteps 
For future good. 


(To D. K.) 

Man is the word of the story. 

Woman is the inspiration, 

God is the book that binds. 

None other can be what is now the finished book. 


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DAY DREAMS 


YOU 

You are the History of Love and its Justification. 
The Symbol of Devotion. 

The Blessedness of Womanhood. 

The Incentive of Chivalry. 

The Reality of Ideals. 

The Verity of Joy. 

Idolatry’s Defense. 

The Proof of Goodness. 

The Power of Gentleness. 

Beauty’s Acknowledgment. 

Vanity’s Excuse. 

The Promise of Truth. 

The Melody of Life. 

The Caress of Romance. 

The Dream of Desire. 

The Sympathy of Understanding. 

My Heart’s Home. 

The Proof of Faith. 

Sanctuary of my Soul. 

My Belief of Heaven. 

Eternity of all Happiness. 

My Prayers. 

You. 


[67] 



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DAY DREAMS 


AT SUNRISE TOMORROW 
(To E. B.) 

O Love, when you leave me do not say: 

“Tomorrow we meet at twilight” 

For that is the time of the darkening hour. 

The ending of the day. 

All is glowing, gleaming in our love. 

All is pulsing, breathing in the light 
Of understanding—it is not symbolic of twilight, 

Nor yet of dawning, for it has reached the zenith of love’s day. 
So when you leave me, dearest, do not say: 

“Tomorrow we meet at twilight.” 

Rather, beloved of my heart, 

“We meet at sunshine tomorrow.” 


[69] 









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DAY DREAMS 


POVERTY 

Possessing the jewels of the earth, 

Plolding within my grasp the sceptre of the universe. 
All these would but make me more the pauper— 
Were I beggared of your love. 


[71 ] 








> 


CREMATION 
(To G. S.) 


DAY DREAMS 


I 

Just a packet of letters tied with a bit of blue, 
Just a packet of letters that once were sent by you 
To one who proved unworthy 
Of the Love inscribed within. 

The tiny packet of letters, a witness of my sin. 

II 

Just a packet of letters, but they are not mine own. 
I dare not claim one thought in them 
Not even as a loan, 

For to the one you thought I was 
In all sincerity 

You bared the secrets of your soul. 

Now I send them back to thee. 

III 

Just a packet of letters 
A monument of love. 

You lie within the fireplace. 

In smoke you’ll rise above 
The sordidness of all deceit. 

The grime of earthly thought. 

Yet, in this flash of living fire. 

The flame of love is caught. 


[73] 


















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IV 

Just a packet of letters a while ago you were. 
Now in vaprous symphony of gray 
I send you back to her. 

For the spirit of true love that’s penned. 

Must rise to meet her soul 
In pearly glory ’round her head. 

Love’s halo—is its goal. 


To rake over the dead ashes of a burnt out love one must 
use the pen point of poetry. 


[ 75 ] 











DAY DREAMS 


THE LUTE 

The lute, a barrier to song of soul. 
For none save God 
Can music charm 
From out a thing man-made. 

A bowl of wood, 

A string or two to arm 
The troubadour with weapon strong. 


[ 77 ] 






*. 


DAY DREAMS 


POWERLESS 

When I see a look of sadness. 

In the eyes of You, 
Thoughts of grief akin to madness 
Surge my being through. 

Am I then so weak and helpless. 
That I can not send 
Even shadowings of sorrows 
To their deserved end. 


r 79 1 







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DAY DREAMS 


Garden of delight wherein the jewels of earth do lie! 

Tell me, in your vault of gold, will the flowers ever die? 
Nothing of so fair a mien could return to earthly dust. 

Even if the earth do say, “It is finished,” trust we must 
In the God who tells of light that will lift to Heaven above 
Every perfumed flower that blows symphonies on wings of 
love. 


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DAY DREAMS 


CAP AND BELLS 
(To F.) 

In Life’s masquerade the disguises are many: 

Here’s a man masquerading as Wealth, 

Wears a million of gold. 

But a pauper. I’m told. 

He hasn’t a penny of health. 

Here comes a Beggar, in tatters and rags. 

Masking as Poverty old. 

He may look the part, 

But the wealth in his heart. 

Makes him richer than Croesus in gold. 

The costumes are varied disguises beguiling 
That cover the true man beneath 
One wears learned looks. 

That he’s borrowed from books 
And a co-operative laurel wreath. 

And still another pretending a clown. 

In make-up the silliest Fool, 

But his knowledge of men. 

Is beyond the ken 

Of a sage of the orthodox school. 

There are millions of others in Life’s Motley Masque 
Who follow the art of mime. 

They mimic and play 
At mockery today. 

But they never fool Old Father Time. 


[83] 






DAY DREAMS 


PATCHWORK QUILT 

A Patchwork Quilt, 

Industrious name. 

Once it was not quite the same. 

A different fame, 

A “Crazy Quilt,” 

Same foolish dame 
Entitled you. 

It was sorry fame. 

Life is like that. 

We do not see 
How little bits 
Make harmony— 

It’s up to man to take each bit 
Of happiness and make it fit. 

But if he takes and doesn’t dwell 
Upon the pattern—Well, it’s Hell! 
A crazy quilt the name’s O. K. 

But start a patchwork quilt today. 


[85] 
















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DAY DREAMS 


(To A. M.) 

The sky is the mirror that reflects all phases of 
Life. The clouds of Doubt bring showers, but there 
is always the “Silver Lining” promise. 

Moral : If the sky is the limit better fix it clear 
in your mind to begin with. 


f87 1 






















DAY DREAMS 


THE PHILOSOPHY OF A PESSIMIST 

I do not care for money made easily. 

It is not lasting—I know. 

I do not care for friends made easily. 

They are not lasting—I know. 

I do not care for anything that comes easily. 

It never lasts—I know. 

But I fell in love with you easily. 

But, not lastingly—I know. 


[89] 



DAY DREAMS 


GEMS OF THOUGHT 

Diamonds—Scintillating wit of sharpest ray 
Emeralds —Philosophy, growth in words today 
Pearls —Are the hymns of pity 

Sapphires—Songs of the skies 

Rubies —Are poems of passion 

And love that never dies. 






DAY DREAMS 


(To C. F.) 

The curtain is raised on the first act—the over¬ 
ture is over. We can play our parts. They say 
life’s a stage, but what a sad thing we have so few 
good stage managers. Our productions have more 
in the way of Costume and lack, so often, the right 
lines. Lines do count, not always words, but sym¬ 
pathy of thought is quite as necessary. 


[ 93 ] 




V ' 


DAY DREAMS 


SYMPATHY 
(To J.) 

Sympathy is just as essential to the world as any 
other great attribute of good, but it must be sym¬ 
pathy in the right place. 

Sympathy of thought has been the greatest lever 
in the machinery of mankind, but to sympathize 
with a weak nature sometimes breaks up his founda¬ 
tion. Know your subject. 

Never withhold sympathy in loving one, but 
rather than sympathy, use encouragement as a tonic 
to tone up a weakling. 

Kindly sympathetic interest is only another name 
for encouragement. 

Never take away a prop without putting a 
stronger one in its place. 


[95] 








DAY DREAMS 


On a stretch of sandy beach I see naught of hu¬ 
man presence, but upon looking closer, a remem¬ 
brance of the past I sit upon a rock and meditate 
upon what once was. I see myself in all the splen¬ 
dor of my youth. I see my boon companion— 
Hope, and one other one, whose name I*d best 
forget. We walked—Hope and I—but ever the 
unnamed one stalked by my side. I turned to gaze 
in fascination at my companion who speaks not, but 
forever stalks silently beside me. I finally forget my 
Hope to gaze in interest at the other. Hope, ne¬ 
glected, lags behind until we walk alone—myself 
and the unnamed one. We walk forever, but the 
walk brings us to the abyss of the world. What 
name has that one whose identity I fail to know? 
O, Eternity, thou art my sight and knowledge. It 
was Doubt, whose companion I became. 


[97] 



DAY DREAMS 


LABOR 

On whose shoulders are the crosses held. 

None can liken a laborer to him who bears the heavy-hearted 
thoughts. 

What can I say—it is more laborious than many tasks. 

Yet—’tis not task— 

For task is given to be done 

And ye are the cross bearers if ye will. 


[99] 


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WEALTH 
(To B. F. S.) 

Treasures in the lowly casket that we call a brain, 
Can jewels of the earth compare 
With all that man finds hidden there? 

The wealth of knowledge, that will lead a willing soul 
Into a land of untold wonder. 

Where will be the lasting goal 
Of every seeking thought— 


[ 101 1 










DAY DREAMS 


UNDERSTANDING 

(To the Brother of Maris) 

Maris of the golden eyes. 

You in all innocence 
Looked upon a lovely world 
In wondering shyness. 

Beauty beckoned. 

Then turned the corner of another day 
Leaving in her stead 
An unknown one. 

The stranger to light. 

Maris of the saddened eyes. 

In your pity, 

Looking from another world 
Have compassion on beauty 
Who thoughtlessly turned away. 

Leaving another in her place 
The stranger to light. 


[103] 




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DAY DREAMS 


HUNGER 

I have journeyed toward the city 
On the long, long road of Life, 

I have learned how little Pity 
Plays a speaking part in life. 

I have learned that only Money 
Is the voice that’s heard today. 
Calling for God’s milk and honey, 
Even Hunger has no say. 

I have reached the city’s center 
By the crooked road of Hell, 

For Starvation’s been my mentor 
And has taught her lesson well. 


[105 1 





DAY DREAMS 


MONEY 

Money—you Harlequin of the great masquerade of life. 
You wear the dollar sign as your mask. 

It may hide you—yes, for a time. 

But when at last grim reality stalks into the midst of the 
festivities. 

The mask is ruthlessly torn away, and then—is seen 
The true expression hidden behind it—the cruel visage of 
discordant greed. 


[ 107 ] 





































DAY DREAMS 


THE CHOICE 

Words are jewels rare— 

If need be 
Words are sometimes fair 

You heed me. 

But our choosing makes them seem 
The reflection of a dream. 

Let us, therefore. 

Choose in reason, 
Whereby all that good is ours. 
And by knowing rightful season 
Pass forever—happy hours. 


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DAY DREAMS 


ITALY 

(To Caruso) 

The earth is earth—that is its worth. 

To men who walk below. 

But to the soul that seeks its goal. 

Each land is all they know. 

One calls it Home, another Heart, another Property, 
But to the one who loves the sun 
He calls it Italy. 


[Ill 1 



DAY DREAMS 


ERIN 

The green sod is red now— 

Rebellion 

The green sod is white now— 

Purity 

The green sod is blue now. 

With truth 

And the green sod is ever green. 

It is growth—none can stop natural growth 
Erin—land of dreams—Awaken. 


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BEES 

The air is alive with buzzing bees 
The little workers of destinies. 

We grasp and strive to make our way. 
Each life a hive and so our day 
Is fraught with honey sweet, if we 
Know all is good in destiny. 


[ 115 ] 









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DAY DREAMS 


(To M. T.) 

A certain lad had a long way to go, so he sat 
still and waited until—well, another lad also had 
a long way to go—so he hurried along and before 
long he received several gifts not to be sneezed at. 
No, they were not to be sneezed at, though I must 
say they made his eyes water a bit. The gifts were 
lovely little blisters on his pedal extremities, so he 
had to sit down and take care of his poor feet and 
in pain tarried, looking at his poor feet. Ah, yes, 
our other little lad took it very slowly, almost like 
the proverbial snail, but kept on the lookout and 
pretty soon a nice, comfortable wagon came along, 
and took the slow little boy for a nice ride, and the 
good little slow boy rode merrily by the poor little 
fast boy, who still sat nursing his blisters. He had 
really gone stepping on some little brimstones,— 
though he said they were pebbles. The good little 
slow boy turned back and put his hand to the poor 
little fast boy, but I regret to say he raised his digits 
to his nose—O, world where is thy sting. 

Note—This is not a moral, it is only something 
that happens every day on our best trafficked roads. 


[ 117 ] 




DAY DREAM 


IMPERIALISM 

Oh, Mirror—most ungrateful ruler 
Man has ever had. 

We trembling bow to your decree. 
But oh! ’Tis very sad 
For all our great devotion 
And concern in your behalf. 

No matter how we worship you. 
You just give us the laugh. 

Though we may claim democracy. 
You hold us like a slave. 

The tyrant ruler of the world. 

From cradle to the grave. 

Pa Adam’s prize Apollos 
Look to you (It is to laugh) 
Their reward for faithful service. 

Is Methuselah’s Epitaph. 


[ 119 ] 



DAY DREAMS 


RADIO 
(To H. M.) 

Radio of romance. 

You 

Broadcasting to the universe 

All that is most blessed 
In all things, 

But to me alone 

The melody of your Love 
Flows through 

The artery 
Of time and Space, 

For unity. 

Can never know Division. 


[121 ] 


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DAY DREAMS 


THE KALEIDOSCOPE OF LOVE 

Synonyms and Antonyms 

A—Adoration—Anticipation—Affinity—Arguments. 

B—Beauty—Bliss—Bitterness—Bondage. 

C—Caresses—Circumstances—Confidences—Charm. 

D—Desire—Delusion—Dreams—Divorce. 

E—Ecstacy—Engagement—Ego—End. 

F—Fascination—Forgetfulness—Flattery—Faith. 

G—Gossip—Gratitude—Gi ft—Go o dby e. 

H—Happiness—Honor—Heartache—Hell. 

I—Intuition—Irony—Idolatry—Integrity. 

J—Jealousy—Joy—Justice—June. 

K—Kisses—Keepsakes—Knowledge—Kismet. 

L—Lips—Loneliness—Logic—Longing. 

M—Marriage—Morality—Money—Man. 

N—N o—N earest—N ovelty—N ever. 

O—Opposition—Own—Offering—Opulence. 

P—Passion—Promise—P ride—P roposal. 

Q—Quality—Quest—Queries—Quarrels. 

R—Romance—Reveries—Realization—Remembrance. 

S—Sympathy—Sacrifice—Shame—Settlement. 

T—Thoughts—Truth—Temper—Tears. 

U-—Unkindness—Understanding—Uncertainty—Unfaithfulness. 
V—V irtue—-Vanity—V o ws—Vengeance. 

\V—Wisdom—Wishes—Wedlock—Woman. 

X—The Unknown—Love. 

Y—Y outh—Y earning—Y es—Y awn. 

Z—Zenith—Zest—Zeal—Zero. 


[ U3] 


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MEMORIAL 
(To A. S. R.) 

A Saint in a stained glass window. 
To the memory of one 
Who “lived the life,” 

In sin and strife. 

Is the epitome of fun. 

A bit of colored crockery, 

A picture wrought in glass. 

His memory’s mockery 
’Tis best to let it pass. 

A Saint in a stained glass window, 
A blest memorial true. 

When it reflects the beauty of 
The memory of you. 


[ 125 ] 


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DAY DREAMS 


DUST TO DUST 

I take a bone—1 gaze at it in wonder—You, O 
bit of strength that was. In you today I see the 
whited sepulchre of nothingness—but you were the 
shaft that held the wagon of Life. Your strength 
held together the vehicle of Man until God called 
and the Soul answered. 


[ 127 ] 






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DAY DREAMS 


LULLABY TREE 

Cradle a thought on a bough of a tree. 
Where it will swing so lazily. 

Where it will gather to its heart 
All in Nature’s lovely mart. 

For every lovely living thing 
Stops to talk by a tree and sing. 

Of what has gone on that very day 
In fields and forests far away. 

If little thoughts hear happily 
All that’s said about a tree. 

They’ll grow to be so wise and true. 
They’ll come back to the heart of you 
Much stronger, grown in beauty free. 
Because their cradle was a tree. 


[ 129] 









DAY DREAMS 


ADAGE 

Happy childhood knows no sting 
That the age of stealth doth bring. 
Stealing hours from the day 
Takes the joys of strength away. 
Stealing hours from the Night 
Taking all—for rest is Might. 
When we steal away a Trust, 
Nothing ever can we give N 
Back to him and so we must 
Never Steal, but Give to Live. 


[ HI ] 


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DAY DREAMS 


FAITHFULNESS 
(To Our Little Friend—The Dog) 

A dog is the nearest approach to the sweet sub¬ 
missive spirit God would have in us. Faithfulness in 
the highest form. He only is faithful because he 
believes in you, as God would have us believe in 
Him. 


[ 133 ] 




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REFLECTIONS AT RANDOM 
(To A. T.) 

Sing a song to the moon 
Or sing a song to the sun 
But just as long as you sing a song 
Your day or night is well begun. 

Woman, the unreasonable Reason for the Great Reason, 
which the sages call Life—Others not so knowing call 
it Love. 

Faith—The Engagement—repartee of Love. 

Hope—Marriage—maybe its reply, but 

Charity—Divorce—is the retort courteous. 

The wedding march or two-step, I should say, is only too 
often the lock-step. 

Punishment is seldom unmerited, though we may not always 
see the cause. 

It is unwise to doubt others when you are not sure of yourself. 

Scientists are fools in some respects, I mean the so-called ones, 
for they ignore the science of all important things. 

Friend is symbolical of Heaven, but some play Hell with it. 

Fun is a healthy disease and is very contagious. 

[ 135 ] 


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DAY DREAMS 


“May I intrude” is often substituted for “Do I intrude”— 
bores are not connoisseurs in the selection of verbs. 

Make the best of what comes, for the best is coming. 

The Great Divide is the division of thought which separates 
the Wise from the Fools. 

Whatever has in it the element of restlessness is like the poison 
ivy plant; it causes rash and spasmodic movements, and 
after all the scratching the victim is worse off than before. 

Worlds, and Worlds to live in, and so few do. 

Care is helpful if we carefully care, but when we carelessly 
care, be careful. 

Gossip—never related in the same way. 

When you eat hash you do not always recognize the different 
kinds of meat in it, do you? So it is with Twice Told 
Tales. 

We always prefer the most difficult way. It seems so much 
more important, but once we realize it, truth is always 
simplest when it is Truth. 

It takes a hero to accuse no one, but take another’s accusation 
to his heart. 

Love’s greatest expression is Service. 

Eyes are living windows. 

Into the garden we all go, but most are looking for the worm 
in the bud and never see the promise of the flower. 

[ 137 ] 


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ART the very mockery of it 

In a painted mask we sometimes call a face, 

Alas, that pigment be so badly used 
And artistry brought to much sad disgrace. 

Take freedom but take care lest it take your liberty from you. 

To be a humorist one must be concise, witty, but short-lived, 
for the good die young. 

Cleverness—word most useful to the Bard 
Who finds his pathway all beset with doubt. 

For if we find his hidden meanings hard. 

We call him “clever”—then he knows what we’re about. 

Publicity is the keystone in the Arch of Triumph. 

Money—pretender to the throne of all we most desire. 

Doubt is the opposing influence of our lives. 

Happiness, some never know as a lasting friend, but only as 
a bowing acquaintance. 

Wifehood is a profession, but Womanhood is the Expression. 

Faith is the oasis in our Desert of Lost Hope. 

Given a chance to run in the Great Race, even a weakling 
can win if he wears the Armor of Courage. 

Purpose in doing is the cornerstone of success. 

Did anything ever build itself over night that was worthy 
the name Great Structure? 

[ 139 ] 






DAY DREAMS 


Loving service is more helpful than scholarly advice. 

Friend—Most lovely word, akin to love, its dearest relation 
—might I say. 

We dream of Greatness in humility, only to awaken to the 
greatness of Humility. 


[Ml 1 



DAY DREAMS 


CO-OPERATION 

O Just and Mighty Army of the World of Living Things 
March on into the open heart of Man, 

He needs a touch of nature with the sympathy it brings 
In order to work out Life’s Perfect Plan. 


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